


Unforgettable

by pada_ackles_1967



Series: Unforgettable [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Amnesia, Angst, Car Accident, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Memory Loss, NSFW, Sex, Smut, Swearing, Traumatic Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-05-31 19:29:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6484654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pada_ackles_1967/pseuds/pada_ackles_1967
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up without any recollection of his family or the accident he’s just been in. No one’s more shocked than you are when you’re the only one he remembers. (Supernatural AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. there’s no remedy for memory

The first thing Dean remembered was choking. 

The lights were too bright to take in his surroundings. He could make out blurry, bright shapes of what seemed to be people rushing around him, flocking around the place where he laid. Something thick was blocking his airway; his natural instinct was to hack it up, but some small part of his brain told him to keep calm and keep breathing. Easier said than done.

Out of the corner of his bleary eyes, Dean could see someone injecting an IV with a clear liquid. An IV? he thought, his brain fairly hazy. Oh, hospital. Duh. His thoughts were cut short when the intense taste of salt water filled his mouth, doing little to help the choking sensation. The taste subsided quickly, along with any coherent thoughts. He was slipping back into sleep. His eyelids fluttered closed, effectively blocking out his confusing surroundings. 

***

“Dean?” a soft voice greeted him when he finally woke up. 

Things were clearer this time when he came to. He blinked away the sleep as his eyes adjusted to the bright room. He was in a hospital, no doubt. If he didn’t know before, the smell of saline and chemicals tipped him off. He glanced around the room to find the person calling out to him. His eyes landed on a shaggy haired kid who couldn’t be more than a few years younger than him. He was too young to be his doctor, but perhaps his RN.

“‘re you my nurse?” Dean asks, his throat aching dully. Now that he thought about it, his entire body hurt, including a headache like he’d never felt before.   
Dean glanced back up at the guy to find his face a mixture of confusion and hurt. Was it something he said?

“Dean, what?” the guy breathed out in shock. “Dude, it’s Sam.”

Dean stared at the man, but nothing was coming to him. For the life of him, he couldn’t place where – or if – he had ever seen this shaggy haired, long-limbed kid. His brain felt like it was coated in a thick fog and he was waiting for the sun to peak through the clouds to break it up.

The kid was still waiting for a response. “I’m sorry, man. I really don’t know you. Maybe—”

“Oh, honey, you’re awake.”

Dean and the kid both turned to the doorway, where an older couple stood. The woman’s cheeks were tear stained and she looked like she could use a good night’s sleep. Her yellow, corn silk hair was knotted and haphazardly pulled away from her face in half a bun.

The man didn’t look much better. His salt and pepper beard needed a trim and his hair a wash. He had bags under his eyes and yesterday’s clothes on. 

Who were these people?

The couple made their way over to Dean’s bed cautiously, like he was a scared child that they didn’t want to startle. The kindness in the woman’s eyes was confusing, but not unwelcome. Dean struggled not to flinch when her unfamiliar hand stroked his sweat-damp hair off his clammy forehead.

“How are you feeling, baby?” she asked softly, her voice an attempt to soothe him. In fact, it did the opposite; his heart rate spiked dramatically, making the machine he was hooked up to go crazy. He was trying, and failing, to keep his cool.

“Ma’am,” Dean starting, his breathe hitching on his own words, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are.”

Dean wanted to take the words back the second he saw tears well up in her sad eyes. She straightened up quickly, giving him a look that made him want to be her son just to wipe the despaired look off her devastated face. The man put two hands on her shoulders to sooth her as her tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Dean,” the kid said again, taking a seat on the hospital bed, “I’m Sam. I’m your brother.”

They were simply enough words, but Dean couldn’t comprehend them. Brother? The word had no weight for him, no backstory. He tried to remember his… brother’s face, to put it to a memory, but he was drawing a blank. 

“I’m your brother,” the boy, Sam, continued, “and this is Mom and Dad.”

Dean shook his head. “No, no. My family, my parents, they’re, they’re…” Dean reached for names in the dark, but they slipped through his hands. Even if he did have another family, he couldn’t remember them, either. 

Dean dug the heels of his palms into his closed eyes, hard enough to see stars. This could not be happening this could not be happening this could not be happen—

“Son, you were in a car accident,” the man, his dad, spoke for the first time. He felt a comforting hand on his shin, but he didn’t look up. It was too overwhelming.

“What happened?” Dean asks, hands still pressed to his eyes as if it would bring back his memories.

“They’re saying that you must have hit the ice wrong,” his dad answered, his voice thick—with emotion? “You went over the barrier and rolled, right into a snow bank.” 

Dean opened his eyes to see three anguished faces staring back at him. It took every ounce of willpower Dean had not to cry. These three people obviously cared for him deeply; their love radiated out of their very beings. It wasn’t hard to believe that they really were his family. He was blanketed with an affection that was foreign to him, and as much as he wanted to accept it and reciprocate it, he just couldn’t. His panic of his unknown past began to set in again, making his pulse go wild again.

His mother patted his hand gently, careful of the IV poking into his vein. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll get a nurse so you can go back to sleep.” Her mouth twitched up into a smile but he could tell she was just putting on a brave face for him. He nodded at her suggestion, realizes just how tired he was. Realizing that you can’t even remember your own family could do that to you.

His mom presses the ‘Call Nurse’ button above Dean’s bed and the four of them waited in a weighted silence until a nurse came with a fresh dose of sleep medicine. She quickly injected it into his IV bag; Dean tasting the familiar and overwhelming taste of salt water hit his taste buds. 

“We’ll be here when you wake up,” his mom assured him quietly, patting his cheek gently. She pulled away and placed Dean’s hand back on the scratchy sheets. The three of them slowly exited Dean’s room, Sam hitting the lights off on the way out.

Dean sat there in the darkness, the only light coming off the screens of the low-beeping machines that were tracking his vitals. He stared up at the corked ceiling, feeling the heavy muscle relaxer set in.

He was alone.

***

What felt like minutes later, Dean woke up to a hushed argument. He kept his eyes shut and focused on the whispered voices.

“– thought you said that when he’d wake up he’d be fine.”

“When we brought him in and got the swelling in his brain down, we thought he would make a full recovery.”

“And now?”

“It seems that Dean is suffering from Traumatic Amnesia caused by the impact to his head.”

“So what, is it treatable? Will he ever get his memories back?” Dean could tell Sam had asked the question, his voice cracking at the end. He was glad he had asked it but was worried as he waited for the answer.

“In most cases, yes, the patient does recall his or her memories. It just happens in time. Sometimes it’s not every detail, but in Dean’s case, I would not be surprised if he made a full recovery.”

Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He would remember. The thought alone was a new found comfort. He wished he had something else from his past to grasp onto, but for now, the thought of getting his memories back was enough.

“Thank you, doctor,” his dad dismissed the doctor. 

Dean opened his eyes to find his mom and Sam had both pulled up a chair next to his bed.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she greeted, her eyes holding a new light in them that wasn’t there last night, “how are you feeling?”

Dean genuinely smiled at her for the first time since he woke up from the accident. “Sore, a little tired. Starving, actually.”

His mom giggled softly, her laugh like wind chimes. “John, sweetie, would you let a nurse know that he’s ready to eat?”

Their dad, John, as his mom had called him, smiled at her and left the room.   
Dean automatically looked to Sam who was already looking at him. They shared a similar look of Overprotective-mom-is-at-it-again-even-though-we’re-grown-men. Maybe Dean couldn’t remember Sam, but there was no doubt that they were brothers. Sam’s lips twitched up into a smile, looking much happier than he had last night. 

“Did you talk to the doctor?” Dean asked his mom, keeping up with the charade that he had been asleep.

With a bright smile, she relayed what the doctor had told them, about his condition and the possibility of him getting his memories back. Her excitement was enough to keep them all smiling. There was another part of him, one that wanted to shy and hide away from these strangers, but he knew that, even if he didn’t remember them, they did have his best interest in mind.

After his dad had come back with some horrible hospital food, but Dean was so hungry that he ate in in mere minutes. The three of him sat around his bed, trying to jog his memory in anyway they could—they told him stories of his childhood, showed him pictures that they had in their wallets, even put on his favorite show in the background. It was as if his memories were on the peripheral— able to see but just out of reach.

“Well, that’s okay honey,” his mother, (Mary, he had learned), had said after everything had failed to get him to remember. “I talked to one of the nurses and she said that you’ll be able to remember more when you get back home.”

“Did they say when I could be discharged?”

“They want to keep you one more night, but tomorrow morning, you’re good to go,” Sam replied, typing something away on his phone.

“Is that the firm?” Mary asked Sam with concern.

“What, you’re a lawyer?” Dean asked, an odd sense of proudness washing over him.

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m a lawyer. ‘ve gotten your ass out of a lot of trouble, too.”

Dean’s eyebrows laced together, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. He knew that he probably wasn’t the most cautious guy, but legal charges? 

“Really?” he had to ask, trying to hide his slight hysteria.

“No,” his mom assured him, shooting her younger son daggers. “He’s messing with you, sweetie.”

“Jerk,” Sam mumbled.

“Bitch.”

Sam’s eyes shot up from the ground to meet Dean’s. It was a knee-jerk reaction for Dean; he wasn’t really even sure why he had said it. Sam grinned widely, an unusual reaction to being called a bitch.

“Sorry, man,” Dean apologized.

“No, no, it’s fine. Um, it’s kinda our thing,” Sam explained, his smile growing wider with every word.

“Oh.” Dean wasn’t sure what this one little word meant for him, but he wanted it so badly to mean progress. “Well, in that case, I meant it.”

Sam laughed loudly, making Mary and Dean chime in. John walked in, taking in the scene with slight confusion. Mary just smiled up at him, placing her hand over his where it rested on her shoulder.

“You know what, guys?” Dean said after their laughter had died down, “Why don’t you go home and get a good night’s sleep.” His mom started to protest before he cut her off. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be asleep the whole time, anyway. Go.”

Mary was wary, but eventually agreed. She and John gathered up their stuff to take home. Sam looked like he was torn on staying and only agreed on leaved when he assured Dean he would be back first thing in the morning. 

Dean refused his sleeping meds that night, opting to fall asleep to late night TV instead. As he drifted off, he could almost pretend that everything was going to be all right.

***

“Sam, I’m so sorry. I came as soon as I heard…”

Dead was roused awake by an achingly familiar voice. 

“I mean, it’s going to be hard, but it’s Dean. I have to see him.”

“They’re something you should know, Y/N…”

Y/N? Y/N! Dean’s brain went off like a million sirens, screaming her name over and over.

“Y/N?” he croaked out, trying to wake up quickly and sit up in order to see her sooner.

She must have heard him, because she was peeking her head into his room seconds later.

It was what Dean was grasping for. 

Old, nostalgic memories of he and Y/N flashed in his mind: them moving into their own townhouse, a picnic in the park, Chinese food on an old sofa, morning sex, getting ready together for work… Images with intense detail and vibrant colors popped up one after the other with every step she took towards him.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

Her manicured thumb reached out and wiped moisture off his cheek; he hadn’t even known that he was crying. 

“Y/N, babygirl, it’s so good to see you.”

Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion, but she kept her gaze and smile steady. “Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Dean. I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” he asked desperately. He didn’t even care how entirely needy he sounded. It was just so good to remember.

“Well, Jess just told me this morning. I came as soon as I heard, hence, well, this,” she motioned to her favorite pair of sweatpants and a tight tee shirt from her favorite TV show.

“You look beautiful,” Dean admired honestly.

Y/N shook her head and looked down at their hands; he had entwined them together as they spoke. The blush that tinted her freckled cheeks was his favorite color in the world.

Sam finally came into the room, pausing at what he saw. 

“Um, Dean?” he started, confusion leaking into his voice, “Can I borrow Y/N for a sec?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, of course.”

Y/N quickly slipped her hands out of his and exited the room without a second glance. Sam threw him a sad glance; was he upset that he remembered his girlfriend and not his brother? He tried to feel guilty, but the elation he felt from remembering Y/N overpowered it.

Through the cracks in the blinds, Dean could see Y/N and Sam talking closely. He was straining to hear them without results.

Quietly, Dean got out of bed and grabbed the IV bag he was attached to, wheeling it over to the door.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t remember anyone?” Y/N cried, sniffling loudly. “He remembered me right away!”

He could hear Sam sigh deeply. “I don’t know, Y/N. The doc said he’d get his memories back; maybe he’s just remembering faster than we thought.”

“I mean, he obviously doesn’t remember everything…”

“You mean he…?”

“Yeah, he greeted me as if we were still together. As if we—” her sobs drowned out the rest of her sentence, but Dean’s blood had already run cold. 

As if we were still together.

Almost robotically, Dean got back into bed and pulled the covers up to where they were. Moments later, Y/N and Sam were back, Y/N face red and tear stained.  
She pulled up a chair next to his bed and sat, Sam leaning against the glass wall. 

“Dean,” she started, holding his hand in hers gingerly. “I have to tell you something…” 


	2. moment for life

You had never been more at a loss for words than you were in that moment. You had broken up once—was it really fair that you had to do it a second time?  
“Dean, we, um…” your voice trailed off, the lump in your throat growing rapidly.   
You couldn’t bear to look in those familiar, bright green eyes that you had missed so much. 

“Oh, Dean!”

Dean, Sam, and you turn to the doorway to see Lisa running into Dean’s room. Her black usual waves were perfectly straight, not a hair out of place. Even her heels matched her lipstick. You couldn’t help but look down at your holey sweats and overstretched tee shirt with a twinge of shame. You shake the thought out of your head immediately – there were much more important things than looking your best. Clearly, Lisa had missed the memo.

You wanted to roll your eyes when she practically shoved you out of the way to get to Dean. You and Sam shared a similar look of distaste as you grabbed spot on the wall, leaning against the windows next to him. No one in Dean’s family or circle of friends was overly fond of Lisa. Even after almost a year of being distant, you still observed that that fact hadn’t changed much. 

You really couldn’t blame her, though. When you found a guy like Dean, you didn’t give him up easily – a fact that still made your gut stir with regret and guilt every time you thought about it. You wanted to get out of the sterile smelling room, grab a cab, and get make under your duvet as fast as possible, but you planted your feet and made up your mind. You would stay, for Dean and for Sam. You tried convincing yourself that it was the right thing to do.

You tuned back into what was happening in front of you. 

“What do you mean you don’t remember me?” Lisa asked through gritted teeth. She was obviously trying to keep calm and was doing a terrible job at it.

“Hey, lady, I just woke up from a car accident with traumatic amnesia,” Dean answered in the clipped tone he used when he was majorly annoyed with someone.

You snickered behind your hand, feeling guilty for enjoying this. Sam was having an even harder time than you were at keeping a smile off his face.

Dean’s wild eyes met yours, silently pleading with you, as Lisa continued to scold him for forgetting her. As funny as it was, you didn’t want Dean to be in distress.  
“Hey Lisa,” you interrupted her new wave of anger, “why don’t we let Dean get ready to go. We can talk about this later, yeah?”

She glared up at you and stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry, Y/N, you’re right. I forgot that you knew everything about everything. Silly me.”

She breezed past you, ignoring Sam on the way out. You were undisturbed by her attitude – you were by far her favorite person on the planet. You turned back to Dean, who was swinging his leg out from under his blankets and onto to floor. You wanted to giggle at his socked feet and bedhead, but it got caught in your throat. 

“So…” Dean starts, scratching the back of his head and rubbing his eyes with heavy fists, “… that’s the chick I’m dating?”

You nod somberly, not wanting to cry. You had shed enough tears for one day.   
Dean’s eyebrows were furrowed together. “You sure?”

“We can’t believe it either, man,” Sam chuckles, handing Dean a duffle bag. “Here are some clothes I grabbed from mom and dad’s. They might be old but they’re good until we get home, right?”

Dean nods, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth loudly. “Any chance you gotta toothbrush in there?”

You leaned back against the windows again, watching the brothers interact. As they riffled through the duffle to find Dean some toothpaste, it almost appeared as if everything was normal. Of course, you knew better, now. 

Dean loosing his memories. It was like the words shouldn’t be in a sentence together. You now realized that it was true what they say – bad things do happen to good people.

Dean stumbled off to the attached bathroom, looking very much like a fawn taking its first steps. You slumped into the nearest chair the second the door clicked shut, your façade dropping immediately. Sam came over and sat on the end of the bed opposite of you.

“You don’t have to stick around if it’s too much for you, Y/N.” There was no anger in his voice, only remorse. He, and all of the Winchesters, really were too good to you.

“No,” you say quickly. “No, I need to be here. For you and for him.”

Sam sighed, scratching the back of his neck, looking so similar to his older brother that it was shocking.

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

You knew your confusion was painted all over your face. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just…” he sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face. “What happens when Dean gets better? When he gets his life back on track? I love you, Y/N, but last time, when you left… it crushed him. Changed his life, really. I can’t see him go through that again.”

You hadn’t thought of that. The breakup, the not speaking to one another, it had ruined you, too. A year later and you still weren’t over it. You hadn’t considered the possibility that maybe you weren’t needed – weren’t wanted.

“Oh,” is all you get out. 

Sam looks completely conflicted, his ever changing colored eyes swimming with guilt and repentance. 

Before you can discuss it any further, Dean stepped out of the bathroom, a scowl on his mouth. 

The two of you don’t hold back your snickers now.

Dean’s wearing a tiny tee stating ‘As A Matter Of Fact, The World Does Revolve Around Me’ in big black font on a baby blue background. It appeared to be at least two sizes too small for him. His large biceps looked like they could tear at the flimsy material any second. The shirt left nothing to the imagination, especially the little tummy that Dean had that you loved so much. His jeans hung low on his trimmed waist, forcing you to look away before your cheeks heated up.

“This is not my shirt,” Dean grumbles, gathering the rest of his things. “I may have lost my memories but I would remember a monstrosity like this.”

Sam barks out a laugh. “You’re right; it’s one that Jess left over.” Dean shoots Sam daggers. He holds up his hands defensively. “What? I was on a time crunch.”

Dean mutters something unintelligible while he laces up his sturdy boots that were packed for him.

“We just have to make it to the parking garage; your coat’s in there.”

Dean grumbles again but stands up, ready to go. Dean hated hospitals; you were honestly surprised he had lasted so long without complaining. One time, he had broken two fingers and refused to go to the doctors for a week before you dragged him there to get a brace. You could tell he was antsy to leave, though; ready to get back to normal.

Normal, you thought bitterly. Dean’s new normal didn’t include you.

As Sam and Dean got his discharge papers, you thought about what Sam had said. Maybe it really wasn’t a good idea to intervene now. Dean needed normal right now; he needed stability. Throwing yourself into the mix would just shake everything up.

There was no sign of Lisa anywhere. In her frustration, she must have taken off. Dean didn’t seem all that worried by her absence. You hated that that fact made you happy.

The three of you made your way down the elevator, Sam sniggering at every strange look Dean got on the way. You all made your way outside to the curb where you stopped. The brothers looked back at you, confusion on their features.  
“Oh, I think I’m just going to call a cab,” you announced.

Sam rolled his eyes and Dean shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no you don’t. You’ll freeze out here before they come.”

“Seriously, Dean, I’ll be fine. I just—”

Dean stepped closer; if it had been anyone else, it would have been an invasion of your space. He had you locked under his gaze, turning on his charm to the max.

“Y/N, I insist.”

You nod incoherently, agreeing immediately. He gives you a smug smile, knowing that he had won. He tucks you under his arm, shielding you from the cold breeze that had picked up. You automatically wrapped one arm around his waist, rubbing your hand up and down his side to warm him up through the flimsy shirt. It was funny at first, but now you were worried for him—he didn’t need any chance of getting sick now. What was Sam thinking?

Speaking of Sam, you glance up at him, where he’s giving you a disapproving look.

What had you— Oh. It had seemed so natural to fall into Dean’s warm embrace, but Sam was right – it was a little too friendly for ex’s to be cuddling as they walked. You tried to pull out of the embrace, but it was no use; Dean’s grip was ironclad. It almost scared you by how you had completely forgotten your inhibition towards him… and by how much you liked it.

The three of you get to the car – John’s Impala, to be exact. When you had heard about the accident, you were half relieved and half worried that Dean hadn’t been driving the thing. Relieved because the car meant so much to all of them, especially Dean, and worried because Dean should have been in it – the thing was built like a tank; Dean could have had the possibility of minor injuries if he had been in it. 

Dean quickly snatches up his coat when Sam unlocks the car. He puts it on quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss his hardened nipples from the cold. You disguise your snort as a cough as you get in the backseat.

You inhale the familiar smell of the Impala. It had been a year since you had been in it, but it felt like a lifetime. The leather and the air freshener still smelled the same. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of angst when you remembered all the fun Dean and you had had inside (and on the hood of) the Impala. You sighed quietly, turning your attention to the twirling snowflakes that had begun to fall outside.

Sam drove cautiously through the slick streets of downtown Kansas City. Dean was asking question after question. Where was his favorite Chinese takeout restaurant? Did he get his hair cut in the city or did he go back into Lawrence? For the ones that Sam couldn’t answer, you filled in for him, answering politely but without backstory. Dean was a naturally curious person to begin with; you can’t even imagine how he was going to be now that he was trying to relearn it all.  
Sam pulled off to the curb of a side street when his phone started to ring. He answered it the second he was in park.

After Sam’s greeting, there’s an obvious scuffle on the other end. Sam was getting cut off at the end of every sentence.

“Well, yes sir—”

“He’s with me n—”

“I don’t know if I—”

Sam finally sighed after a long pause. “Yes, I can come in. I’ll be there within the hour.”

Sam hung up and sighed, turning his body towards Dean. “I’m sorry, man. My boss just called to say we have an emergency meeting with a client. I can’t miss it.”

“It’s okay, man. You can just drop me off, um…” Dean searched for a place in his mind, obviously coming up short. You could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

“He can stay at my place,” you pipe up from the back seat.

The boys turn to look at you, one skeptical, one on the brink of ecstatic. 

“I mean, until you’re done, Sam. I mean, it’s either a forty minute drive to your parent’s place or Dean’s place,” Dean’s eyebrow cocked up, “… with Lisa.”

Dean groaned and hung his head in his hands. “I live with her? Ugh.” He raised his head to look at Sam, his eyes narrowed. “When I remember everything, we are so figuring out how that could have happened.”

Sam let out a laugh, but his eyes flicked to your face. You both knew the real reason went running to her.

“So?” you ask Sam. You knew it was ultimately up to him and you also knew that you were right; he was between a rock and a hard place.

“Alright,” Sam shifts into drive, “Y/N’s place it is.”

***

“I’ll call you the minute I get off, okay? You have my new number?”

Sam was like a worried mother leaving her kids alone with a babysitter for the first time. His concern was quite cute.

“Yes, Sam. I also have your parent’s numbers, and Jess, and Meg and Cas, and—”

“Okay, okay,” Sam huffs. 

You lean into the Impala through the passenger side door, effectively blocking Dean out of your conversation. He was standing on the sidewalk, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“Sam, it’ll be fine. I promise. Nothing’s going to happen.”

He gives you a doubtful look, but nods. “I’ll call you later.”

“Go.”

Sam gives Dean and you a two-finger salute as he pulls away from the curb outside your place, heading to work.

You turn to face Dean, a little apprehensive. The idea had seemed all well and fine when you were trying to help Sam out, but now that you actually face Dean, alone, for who knows how long, you were worried.

“Shall we?”

You lead Dean up through the stairwell, babbling on the way to fill the silence. “So, it’s a little smaller than the last place, but the rent is cheap, and it’s in an okay neighborhood,” you rambled. “The neighbors are loud but— here we are.”  
Dean’s unusually quiet as you fish your key out of your pocket, unlocking the sticky lock and opening the creaky door. 

You hang up your coat and take Dean’s when it slides off his shoulders. You can’t help the last fit of giggles at Jess’s shirt. Sam was really going to pay for that one.  
He doesn’t respond; Dean’s walking around your tiny living room, looking at the few pictures you’ve put out and the books you have on display. You took the opportunity to slip into your bedroom.

You dug through you pajama drawer until you get the biggest shirt you could find. You set it aside before reaching into the deepest part of your closet, pulling out one of your more prized possessions.

Dean’s looking at a photo of Cas and Meg’ engagement party when you get back; it was one of the last dates the two of you had together.

“Here,” you offered him the tee shirt and sweatshirt— his sweatshirt.

Dean’s eyes met yours, speaking for the first time since he got there. “Do you have my letterman jacket hidden here, too?”

You smack his arm playfully. “You know I wasn’t the one to loose that! You left that at the lake house, not me!”

Dean takes his jacket from you. You had been holding onto it for over a year, never quite willing to let it go.

Something clicked in your brain. “Wait— you remembered that?”

Dean nodded, looking a little sheepish. “I don’t know what it is; it’s like… watching certain scenes of a movie and fast forwarding through the rest, not to mention skipping the ending all together. All the scenes just happen to star you.”  
Casually, Dean takes off the baby blue top, throwing it onto the couch. Suddenly you were five feet away from a shirtless, smoldering, Dean, and he was acting like it was no big deal.

You had to take a few steps back before you spontaneously combusted. It was all a little too much.

“Are you hungry?”

***

“Oh my God,” Dean moans almost embarrassingly loud.

“Dean, they’re just ribs.”

“Yeah, but they’re your ribs,” he moaned into his dinner. “And that sauce? Man.”

You laughed, stabbing your green beans with your fork. The two of you, sitting on your couch, eating dinner while wrapped up in heavy blankets to keep from the cold, was all too familiar. 

Dean placed his empty plate on the coffee table, wiping the last of his sauce off his hands with a paper towel. You sat your own unfinished meal down when he turns to face you.

“There’s just one thing that’s bugging me,” he starts. “Why? Why did we break up?”

You knew the question was coming, but you still didn’t have an answer for him. “I don’t know.”

“All I can remember is the good times. We had a great run, Y/N! What happened?” The despair and desperation in his voice made you want to curl in on yourself. You wished you had a better answer for him, and for yourself.

“I guess we just… drifted apart. We were both busy with work, and there was a lot of pressure to do more with our lives. I guess we just got wrapped up in all of it and forgot to do it together.” The words were hard to get out, but the second you said it, you knew it was true. It was almost a relief to say them aloud— almost. 

Dean sighed. “It’s hard to believe you when I don’t remember it for myself.” He backpedaled when he saw your scowl. “I know it happened— I guess I just wish it wasn’t true.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, “me too.”

You could feel his eyes on your face as you avoiding looking at him. Once glance and you knew, it was all going to be over. You peeked up at him, and sure enough, his smoldering gaze was enough to throw away all coherent thoughts.

Dean’s lips on yours felt like coming home.

Your back hit the seat of the couch, dinner completely forgotten. Dean draped himself over you, his body heat warming you up better than any blanket could. The drawstrings of his sweatshirt tickled your collarbone as he brings you into another passionate kiss. He tastes just like you remembered and fantasized about.

His hands tangled into your hair, giving him easier access to your exposed neck. He gave you short, sweet pecks wherever his lips could find skin.

Your hands automatically wrapped around his neck, pulling him in as close as he could come. You caught a breath between every kiss, your hands threading into his short hair.

You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat. Your blood was pumping loudly in your ears, blocking out everything except his whispered breath on your skin. An emotion you hadn’t felt in an entire year begins to blossom in your chest, making every touch, every kiss, seem magnified. 

You didn’t even realize that you’re crying until he kissed your stray tears away.

There was a loud rapt of knocks at the door.

“Oh my God,” you whimpered, sitting up straight. 

What were you doing? You pushed Dean away, trying to wipe your tears away quickly. You caught Dean’s broken expression is your peripheral as he stood up to get the door. Guilt and anger claw their way up your throat, causing another onslaught of tears.

“I knew you would be here.”

Lisa! Your guilt intensified. Dean was dating someone. How could you be so stupid? You had built up a wall, a façade that you were okay, for a year, only to have it crumble in one moment of weakness.

“Lisa, right?”

You glanced to the doorway to see Lisa pushing her way past Dean and into your apartment.

“How did you know I would be here?” Dean questioned, his eyes a little too wide and his lips a little too swollen. 

Her steely eyes are locked on you. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to collect you from here,” she practically hissed at you.

“Lisa, I—”

“Save it, Y/N,” she cut you off. “We’ve been over this, remember? You had your chance, but you fuc—”

“That’s enough,” Dean stepped in, shielding you from her with his body.

“You don’t know the things that she’s done,” Lisa defends herself. “You don’t remember what she did to you.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t care. You don’t get to speak to her like that; I don’t care who you are.”  
“I’m the one you came running to when she threw you out. I’m your girlfriend!”

“Not anymore.”

You can’t help the gasp that escaped your lips. “Dean…”

He turned to look at you for the first time. There was a fire in his eyes that only came out when he was really at his breaking point. 

“Dean, maybe you want to think about this. Maybe you want to sleep on it.”  
He snorted. “I don’t want to be with someone who treats the people I love like that— or anyone, for that matter.”

Lisa’s jaw was practically on the ground. “I can’t believe you’re picking her, again.”

“No,” Dean shook his head, turning back to her. “No, I’m choosing me.”

Fresh tears tickled your cheeks. Was it bad that you felt proud of Dean? Probably, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad in the moment.

“Whose name is on the lease?” Dean asked her, no-nonsense in his voice.

“Yours,” she answered, her voice softer than you had ever heard it. You almost felt bad for her, but the feeling didn’t come.

“Great. I’ll give you a week to find a new place, then.”

“You know what? Screw you, Dean. You were a lousy lay, anyway.”

You couldn’t hold back your snort; you didn’t know whom she was sleeping with if she thought Dean was bad.

“Screw you, too, Y/N,” she seethed. “I hope you’re happy.”

With that, Lisa was gone, slamming the door on the way out.

You let out a deep sigh. As much as you disliked her, you didn’t wish her ill will. From what Sam had told you, though, it looked like this breakup was inevitable. You just sped up the process.

Dean breaks the silence. “I can’t believe I ever dated her.” 

“Honestly? Me either.” You grab the plates from the coffee table and take them into your dingy kitchen. 

Dean follows you, leaning up against the refrigerator. “Please tell me she’s not the reason we broke up,” he looked at you with wide eyes.

You smile at his wariness. “God no. She came later.”

“Well… good.” Dean let out one hard laugh. “Tying up a lot of loose ends today, huh?”

You sighed, leaning against the kitchen sink. “Dean, about that…”

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for what you had to say.

“I think that we should take things slow, think about a few things before we do anything rash…”

“What is there to think about, Y/N?” He came in close, his hands gripping the counter on either side of you. His breath fanned over you face, making it hard to form a coherent thought. “I’m still in love with you, and it’s obvious that you still have some feelings for me. Why can’t you see that?”

You take in his desperate expression. You blink back new tears.

“It’s not that, Dean. I just—”

Another knock at the door breaks the little bubble you were in.

“Hold that thought,” Dean begged, not stepping away until you nodded and agreed.

Dean answered the door for a wind-swept Sam. He had changed from earlier, his long pea coat making him look years older. “Hey, guys. Ready?” he asked Dean.

Dean looked torn. He looked back at you, his wild eyes back. You walked to the doorway.

“We’ll talk some more tomorrow,” you suggested, “okay?”

Dean nodded. “Dinner? I’ll pick you up here.”

“The usual?” 

His grin spreads across his face. “You act like you have to ask.”

You can’t help but smile yourself. “I’ll see you at six, then.”

Dean leans down to your height. At the last second, it’s like he becomes aware the Sam’s still standing in the doorway. He opts for a kiss to your cheek.

“Oh,” Dean said, cutting off your goodbye. He quickly took off his sweatshirt, handing it to you. He replaced it with his winter coat, his signature smirk on adorning his face.

“Goodnight.”

“Bye,” is all you croak out, still under Dean’s spell.

The last thing you see is Sam’s disapproving look before you shut the door.

You slide down onto the cold hardwood floors, Dean’s sweatshirt balled in your hands. His smell is everywhere, lingering even though he was long gone. You lean your head back against the door, a million thoughts running through your head. After a minute, you get up off the floor. You turn off all the lights, feeling like you’re running on autopilot.

You climb into bed after putting his sweatshirt on. It’s still warm from when he was wearing it. 

You fell asleep peacefully, Dean on the brain and in your heart. 


	3. I'm A Fool For Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve read the first two parts, you may remember me mentioning Ash and Jess as girlfriends of Sam and Cas, respectively. Well, it turns out, they’re too hard to write, haha. Instead, Jessica Moore is now Sam’s lovely girlfriend, and Meg Masters is Cas’ kick-ass fiancée. Sorry for the confusion. (I have gone back and changed their names. Neither have been introduced before this chapter.)

Sam didn’t bring it up on the way to his place. There was no way he could have missed the exchange between Dean and Y/N, but he decided not to comment on it.

The drive to Sam’s place was short, Dean noticed. He didn’t live far from Y/N at all.

“I know that Y/N and I haven’t talked in a while,” Dean started as Sam pulled into an underground parking garage for an apartment building, “but how have you guys faired? You two were just as close as we were.” Dean was remembering the times with the three of them; hanging out at the lake house, sitting with Y/N as they cheered Sam on at his nerdy mathletes tournaments… It seemed that the only things he could remember involved her.

Sam sighed, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he parked in a designated spot. “It was hard,” Sam admitted, “after you guys broke up. She was still close with Jess and Meg, but it wasn’t like the six of us would hang out like, well, like before. Eventually, she stopped talking to me, then Cas, and then even the girls. It’s been a while since I’ve even seen her.”

Dean watched Sam’s face fall as he spoke about her. He couldn’t help the twinge of guilt he felt. “I’m sorry man,” Dean apologized genuinely. 

“Don’t apologize, Dean,” Sam replied with a sad smile. “It is what it is. You guys were just better as friends, I guess.” Sam looked at him, almost like a silent warning. Dean rolled his eyes and got out of the car, heading for the elevator.

Flashes of toasts and cheering stained the backs of Dean’s eyelids as he and Sam got into the lift. “Did you have a party here?”

Sam looked at Dean in awe. “Yeah! Yeah, Jess threw me a surprise party after I got my internship at the firm. Do you remember it?”

Dean rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on what he had seen. “Kinda,” he admitted, a little defeated that he couldn’t see anymore. He changed the subject. “So, Jess. Does she live with you?”

Sam chuckled to himself. The doors opened and Dean led him to the right. “She might as well,” he replied with a humorous tone. 

They wrapped around and continued down the long hallway that was decorated with golden floral wallpaper, small chandeliers dotting the ceiling feet apart from each other. Nice digs, Dean thought.

“Her and Meg were living together, but since Cas moved in after the engagement, she’s almost been living with me exclusively.” Dean doesn’t miss the happy smile Sam was sporting while he talked about her.

“Guess you guys are pretty serious then, huh?”

Sam flashed him a proud smile as he stopped in front of the doorway at the end of the hall. “Guess so.”

Sam swung the door open to reveal a spacious loft-styled apartment. He tossed his keys haphazardly onto the table next to the door and took off his jacket.

“Lawyer boy thinks he’s so fancy,” Dean mumbled. Sam simply chuckled and flipped his hair out of his eyes again.

“Sam, hey, I— Dean!”

The two of them turned to see Jess coming out of what Dean thought had to be the bedroom. Dean recognized her from the picture in Y/N’s apartment—much to Dean’s dismay, he only recognized her from the picture. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked, genuine concern lacing her tone.

“I, um, good, I guess. Still a little out of it.”

Jess walked over to the couch and took a seat. Dean figured he should follow, so he took a seat next to her. Sam flopped down into an armchair, watching the two of them.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be back to your old self sooner or later. You really don’t remember anything?” Her blue eyes were wide with a mix of concern and interest. It was just like speaking to his mother again; he knew that she cared for him, but the memories behind his own feelings were absent. 

Dean didn’t know how much he should disclose about Y/N. Sam had said they hadn’t spoken in a while—would Jess have the same distaste for their rekindling that Sam did?

“Not much.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Well, I’ll fill you in,” she stated, looking him right in the eye. She patted his knee once and got up from the couch. “Now, are you hungry?”

Dean watched her pad over to the spacious kitchen, wrapped up in a huge sweatshirt that was clearly Sam’s. 

“No, thanks. I ate over at Y/N’s place.”

Jess paused, her eyes flicking to Sam’s. “You were over at Y/N’s?”

Shit, Dean thought. Cat’s out.

“Er, yeah. I was there while Sam went to work.” Why did he feel guilty? He came to strange realization that maybe he wasn’t getting the full story.

“How do you feel about that, Dean?”

“Jess,” Sam groaned, half in warning and half in exasperation.

Jess ignored her boyfriend, waiting for an answer from Dean.

“Well, were going out to dinner tomorrow, if that means anything.” Dean tried to gauge her reaction, but she had a great poker face.

“Is it a date?” she asked, pulling a few dishes out of the cupboards, her back to him now.

“I don’t know, actually. She said that we needed to talk before we decided anything.” 

Jess turned around, chewing on her bottom lip. “Dean…” she started, the paused, sighing. “I don’t want to tell you the right thing to do here, honey, but… Maybe going back to Y/N isn’t such a great idea.”

Dean glanced to Sam, who was avoiding his gaze at all costs. 

“Why, Jess? What was so bad that we couldn’t work through? So far, I haven’t been able to get a straight answer from anyone.”

“I don’t know, Dean. All I know was how broken you were afterwards. I just don’t want to see you go through that again.” He could tell she was being honest with him, but his feelings for Y/N were overpowering any thought at the moment. 

Dean ran a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, and we’ll see what happens from there. I can’t promise you what’s going to happen, but I do promise that I’ll be okay. Alright?”

Jess sighed, but she nodded in approval. “I know you’ll make the best decision for you.”

Dean stood up and placed a kiss to the top of her head. It felt natural to comfort her, and Sam just smiled at the exchange. Thinking about his past, and his future, had Dean yawning. 

“I got the guest room ready for you, just in case you were going to stay here,” Jess mentioned, motioning to the hallway nearest the kitchen. “There’s an attached bathroom with towels and soap for you. It’s probably not your brand, but it smells—”

“It’ll be great, Jess. Thanks.”

Jess smiled sweetly and sighed, studying Dean silently. She seemed just as worried about him as Sam was. 

“I’m going to turn in,” Dean announced, inching towards his temporary room. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“’Night, Dean,” Sam said, shrugging off Dean’s gratitude like he wasn’t putting him out. Jess moved from the kitchen to sit on Sam’s waiting lap. My cue to go, Dean thought.

Dean whistled lowly when he entered the immaculate guest room. “Not bad, baby brother,” he murmured to himself. 

After getting ready for bed in what must have been Sam’s flannel pants, Dean settled in for the night. He slept dreamlessly, the only thing on his subconscious mind was a certain pair of familiar eyes.

***

Dean wasn’t sure how memories worked. He wasn’t sure what part of his brain supplied them, what neurons were working to make it all tick. All he knew is that, the next morning when he woke up, he was remembering things.

The guest room suddenly looked familiar. He had stayed here after a fight with Lisa, he had blacked out here and taken care of a tipsy Y/N after they spent a night of bar hopping with Sam, Jess, Cas, Meg. Cas and Meg were still fuzzy for him, but for the first time since the accident, he felt an emotionally attachment, a strong one, to the two names and blurry faces.

“Morning,” Dean greeted his brother with a big smile in the kitchen as he poured himself coffee. 

“Looks like someone slept well,” Sam commented, trying not to sound like he was prying.

“My memories are getting clearer,” Dean admitted, sipping the black liquid, sending a wonderful jitter into his bloodstream.

Sam’s mossy green eyes lit up. “Really?”

“It’s not all back,” he assured his little brother, “but bits and pieces, yeah.”

“That’s great, Dean. Really.”

They shared a peaceful breakfast of eggs, bacons, and bagels in a calm silence, just the two of them. Sam said that Jess worked at a local bakery down the street, so Dean wouldn’t see her in the mornings. 

Dean could practically feel Sam wanting to bring his dinner with Y/N up, but he bit his tongue, for whatever reason. Dean couldn’t wrap his head around Sam’s apprehension at the prospect of them rekindling their relationship; the worst thing that would happen is that his brother would be happy, and the best thing would be getting back the girl he thought of as a sister. Dean just didn’t see the downside.

After the dishes were done and the table was cleared, Sam got ready for work and Dean got dressed to… what did he do now? His mind was coming up blank when he thought of his job.

“Well, you’re kind of the Director of Sales and Marketing at Sandover’s,” Sam explained after Dean had asked him.

Dean practically cringed. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam agreed with Dean’s silent distaste. 

“Guess I put that Business degree to use,” Dean mumbled.

Him, a corporate douchebag? Growing up, Dean had always wanted to do something hands on. Apparently his childhood dreams of being a mechanic, a cop, or a firefighter had been dashed by the daily grind of a desk job. It just didn’t seem like him at all.

“I called your boss,” Sam told him, slinging a leather laptop bag over his head, “and told him about what was going on. He said to call him when you were ready to come back to work.”

Dean tried his hardest not to make a face. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it. Here,” he tossed Dean the keys to his Dad’s car. “Why don’t you go see mom and dad before seeing Y/N tonight?”

Dean slid his index finger into the key ring, jingling the keys around like they were a connected appendage. “Yeah, good idea.”

Sam bid Dean farewell, ducking out of the entryway, phone to his ear before the door could close. Maybe Sam could thrive in a workplace filled with suits and sales, but just the thought of having a meaningless conversation around the water cooler in between meaningless hours of work was suffocating to Dean. 

Dean plugged his parent’s address into his Maps app that he found scribbled in Sam’s address book. He felt a twinge of sadness that something that should be so basic and ingrained into him was a complete mystery. 

Dean locked the door behind him with the spare key Sam had given him last night and made his way down to the garage. He took his time, seeing that he had hours to kill before he needed to be at Y/N’s.

Getting in the driver’s seat of the Impala was more familiar to him than his home. The smell of the leather and the air freshener brought back memories of getting his license at 16, taking Y/N to the Throwback Night at the drive-in, being the Designated Driver for Cas and his brother, tailgating at KU football games… Dean glided the car out of the underground garage with ease, like it was second nature to drive the beast of the car that meant so much to him.

Following the directions that his phone blearily repeated to him, he drove through downtown Kansas City, unable to stop himself to stare at the great buildings that towered up into the grey winter sky. As the skyscrapers thinned and enormous trees took their place, Dean began to feel a sense of home. Images flashed by quicker as he got closer to his parents’ house. I taught Sam to ride his bike there, I took Y/N on a date there, and I played little league there; small memories that littered the street of his hometown were coming back, leaving Dean with a brighter outlook.

“You have arrived,” the monotone voice informed him. Dean parked across the street, staring at his childhood home for a loaded moment. Emotions swirled deep in his gut, bringing irrational tears to his eyes. It was an overwhelming sensation of comfort and warmth, mixed together with the dreariness of nothingness. Much like how he felt about Cas and Meg, his home (and by extension, his parents) were filling him with feelings that he couldn’t even place. He took a deep and calming breath and made his way up to the house. 

When no one answered the door after he rang the bell, Dean walked around the side of the house and into the backyard.

He paused, mid step, and watched his mother.

She was shoveling the snow that had piled up on the front porch. Even under the heavy labor, she still looked graceful, strangely content with the strenuous task. 

“Hi, mom,” Dean announced his presence softly, not wanting to startle her.

She looked slightly surprised at his arrival. “Hi, honey. Did you sleep okay at Sam’s?”

“Yeah,” Dean smirked. “The kid is one hell of a host.”

Mary smiled wistfully; she knew how well Sam was doing, off in the big city, alone. “That he is. What brings you back home?”

Home, Dean though. I needed to come home.

“I needed to bring the car back, and… I just wanted to say hi.”

She smiled again, her eyes, so similar to his, were sparkling. “Well, I’m glad you came.”

She wrapped a comforting arm around him and led him into the warm house.

Hours (and two amazing sandwiches) later, his father got home. He met them in the kitchen, where they had been talking for most of the morning.

“Dean,” he greeted, clapping him on the back. Dean practically leaned into the gesture, but he refrained. He kissed his mom, flush on the mouth, smiling as he pulled away. Much to Dean’s happiness, his parents still looked at each other like they hung the stars together, even after all these years.

“I have some bad news, son,” his dad started, sitting opposite him at the table after his mother had grabbed him a towering sandwich. 

“Yeah?” Dean asked hesitantly. 

“I just got home from the garage. We had your car towed from the sight and… well, we couldn’t save it.” He passed Dean a set of newer looking keys, guilt in his eyes. “Sorry son.” Before Dean could assure him that it was okay, that it was just a car, his dad began, “The good news is, is that I just got a new car.” He passed him the familiar keys to the Impala that he had hung up earlier by the front door. “She’s all yours.”

Dean sat there in shock, staring down at the gift that meant so much to him. For Dean to remember a car so vividly, even when other, more important, things were hazy to him… it had to be special.

“Dad… thank you.” He got up and came around the table, taking his father in a big hug. 

His dad just smiled, embracing his son. Dean tried to hold back his tears of joy.

He just wished he could remember more about the people who cared and loved him so much.

The three of them sat, sometime bringing up the past, but mostly focusing on the future. After feeling guilty for most of the conversation, Dean brought up what he had been thinking about since he got there.

“I’m taking Y/N out tonight.”

He expected a similar reaction from them that he had gotten out of Sam and Jess, but they just nodded.

“I think that will be great, Dean,” his mom said first, sounding genuine.

“Really?”

“Of course, son,” his dad answered. “We know what you’ve probably heard from Sam, and while his feelings are valid… you have to decide here. We still love Y/N,” he said, looking at his wife for verification, and she nodded. “You’re old enough and mature enough to realize what is best for you. We’ll support you, no matter what you choose.”

Dean was a little stunned. Their response, especially his father’s, was totally different from what he had thought. They were right, though; he could tell what was right, what was good, for not just him but for her too. 

Dean left the house, feeling more confident about his date, than he had since he made plans with her. With words of encouragement from his parents, a new (well, new to him) car, and fresh clothes (courtesy of his dad’s closet), Dean was off, back towards the city, to get his girl back.


End file.
